


Our Burdens To Bear

by LadyoftheLostandFound



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, hobbit - Fandom
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Humor, Book Spoilers, Brotherhood, Drama, F/M, Family, Family Feels, Gen, Heartbreak, Heartwarming, Romance, Spoilers for Desolation of Smaug
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyoftheLostandFound/pseuds/LadyoftheLostandFound
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a re-telling of the tale of the Heirs of Durin from the perspective of the two Dwarf women who played a role in the Reclaiming of Erebor and the Battle of the Five Armies. To a mother nothing is more terrifying than the threat of losing her sons. To an outsider challenging a king may lead to serious repercussions or a new beginning.  </p><p>(Rating may be updated to Mature at a later date)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The songs of old and tales of battles long since fought are regaled in the great halls of the dwarven realms. Legends of kings and dead warriors of a past long remembered are reawakened in the minds and hearts of those who hear them. Yet often times, as it is with such things, the stories that are handed down do not quite tell the tales are they were. Heroes hailed for their courage and bravery overshadow the smaller acts of the ones who chose to remain quietly in the background. Such is the way of the storytelling as from a man's perspective.

Yet with such stories there is often a different side told beside the hearths and the looms of the womenfolk. They tell the tales in a different light whilst the hustle and bustle of daily life keeps them ever busy. These stories are woven into the fabric of the female mind as cleverly and tightly bound as a keen dwarvish master's knot. It is their history. Their past, present, and future passed down from one generation of women to another. It is through these stories that the women keep the memories of their mothers, their daughters, and their sisters alive, those that would have been long since lost to the mists of the passing ages.

The tale of the Quest to Reclaim Erebor and The Battle of the Five Armies is often told during the long dark months when the fierce bite of winter's breath takes hold of the night. While the men sit at council debating the possible threat of war and arguing over the worth of their wealth and craft, the women teach the younger generations by word and by stitch as deft fingers work clever needles through growing tapestries. Each thread is counted as each name is repeated until not a single mistake is made.

This is one such telling of that tale when Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain gathered to him a company of dwarves, a wizard, and a hobbit and set out to reclaim a lost kingdom from the fiery clutches of Smaug the Terrible. Yet in this version it is the unmentioned roles of dwarven women that are given a chance to come to life and tell their stories as they happened.

A Mother unwilling to remain behind became a Leader to which an entire kingdom looked to for guidance. An Outcast defied a King and set in motion the unity of the Seven Kingdoms of the Dwarves. These are the women who forged unlikely paths through the unshakeable bonds of love, loss, and motherhood. These are the women who helped to guide Erebor out of the Dragon's shadow and toward the end of the Third Age of Middle Earth. 

Never were there two women so at odds with the world around them and their place within it.


	2. Chapter 2 - Daring Duo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a sucker for music inspired chapters. Each chapter tends to get a song or two attached to it. Just a little extra something that adds to the reading experience. Cheers!
> 
> ***Music Reference: Take a listen to "Fear No Darkness" by Adrian von Zielger. I swear this song embodies the souls of Fili and Kili.

"Think fast!"

A wooden pint arched through the air, deep amber liquid spilling forth, just as a hand reached out and snagged the hand carved handle of the tankard. The head of foam landed on top of a well-worn wooden table and managed to miss its intended mark. Bright blue eyes glinted with amusement as a set of golden eyebrows arched in question.

That had been close, but not close enough.

"Little brother, when I say I am dying of thirst I don't mean it literally. Can't drink it if I am wearing it." The mouth under the braided beard curved up in grin as the fair-haired dwarf shook his head and took a deep pull of the cold brew.

A second pint soon followed but this one came different dwarf who mirrored the grin with one of sheer cheek. Lively dark eyes winked from under a mane of thick brown hair that framed a face that had the beginnings of what would be a thick and full beard.

"Someday Fili I will manage to pull one over you, mark my words." Kili, the younger of the two dwarf brothers, kicked out his chair before he set himself down at their usual table at the very back of the crowded tavern. It had been a long day working the trades for all the tavern's patrons and Fili and Kili were just two of many dwarves who were in the mood to slack their thirst.

"Oh they are marked. And that's all they'll ever be." Fili chuckled at his brother's enthusiasm. He was always one to take on a challenge but it would be a blue moon before Kili would be able to keep this dwarf from his drink. "Speaking of which, wasn't that the lass you were making eyes at two days ago? Old Felgar's daughter? How did that go?"

At the mention of the tavern owner's black-eyed daughter Kili shot a nervous glance over his shoulder and quickly scanned the room. Standing by the side of the bar was none other than the raven-haired beauty that kept many of the lads coming back for more pints just for the chance to exchange a few words with her.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Fili hid his smile behind his hand as he wiped a line of froth from his upper lip. Kili may only be a handful of years younger than himself but his brother still had a long ways to go when it came to wooing the fairer gender. Poor dwarf kept tripping over his tongue every time a pretty face came into his field of view. Batting a pair of eyelashes his way would result in him wearing whatever he held in his hands. Fili took his role as wingman seriously but there was only so much he could do before Kili made a right mess of things. No amount of coaching could ease the mounting tension that seized his younger brother whenever he was forced to talk to women that he held a remote attraction to. It amused Fili to no end, even if he felt bad for his brother when things did not go as planned.

It would seem that some things could just not be taught.

"Don't worry. You'll get the hang of it. Mother always hinted that Uncle was a bit of a ladies dwarf back in his wilder days. And if Thorin could warm up to the charms of a woman then what's there to stop you?"

"Fili, shut up."

A rare moment of stillness settled between the brothers as they polished off their tankards. Drinking was a serious business that was not to be taken lightly, even by them. However when the bottom of their cups could be seen they came up for air and planted the tankards on the table top with a loud thunk.

"How's about another round?" Fili asked he flagged down a passing barmaid with a wave of his hand. Kili gave a distracted nod as he kept a close watch on the tavern keeper's daughter out of the corner of his eye. The sound of her tinkling laughter could be heard above the usual din of the busy tavern and there was nothing Kili could do to block it out. Like a well-balanced hammer striking an anvil, it was a sound no dwarf worth his beard could ignore.

"Tell you what. I dare you to go up there and talk to her. Just a simple hello. And if you can manage that I'll buy the rounds for the rest of the night." Fili leaned forward and snapped his fingers in front of his brother' face to draw in his attention.

"You would do that? For just a hello?" Kili's look was a shrewd one as he regarded his brother. Whereas daring one another to outdo each other was common place it wasn't often that Fili would wager an entire day's worth of wages unless he had something else going for him.

"That's right. Just a hello." The corners of Fili's eyes creased as his smile broadened. "Don't think you can manage?"

"Oh I can manage. I can manage just fine. But what's the catch?"

"Simple. If you don't, then you buy. But I must be honest with you brother. I've worked up a deep thirst that will take more than just a few pints to quench."

Kili rolled his eyes as Fili slapped him heartily on the back. There was hardly a time when his older brother was not in the mood to drink himself under the table. Even so, Kili was not about to pass up the opportunity.

"Dare accepted." He held out his hand and they shook on it. There was no going back on their words now. "If I were you I would prepare myself for walking home with a much lighter purse."

"Oh I won't be the one walking. Without all that gold to weigh you down you'll be the one to carry me back." Fili crossed his arms over his chest and sat back in his chair. Every inch of him brimmed with confidence.

A confidence Kili wished he currently possessed.

"We'll see about that." Kili wrapped his knuckles on the table as he rose and maneuvered his way up toward the serving bar.

Nearly every table in the tavern was occupied by a vast assortment of dwarves. Every trade ranging from tinkers to blacksmiths to warriors of old could be found within these four walls and despite the odd appearance of a woman the majority of the patrons were men. It was not that dwarf women did not enjoy a good pint or three but the stalwart women were often kept busy with their own domains and duties. It took a great amount of effort and time to keep a family fed and in line while managing a home and finances as well as pursued trades and daily tasks. It wasn't often that they found themselves with spare time on their hands and in the event that they did come across it, well, dwarf women were not the type to make ill-use their free evenings. Children were not going to raise themselves and husbands that had to be roused from their drinking holes and rounded up in the late hours once the taverns gave the last call.

Kili knew that whatever transpired that night would not make it to the keen ears of their mother. Despite her instinctual knack for sensing things Dis was still kept in the dark about Kili's failed attempts to properly court a girl. It wasn't for lack of trying. His tongue tended to forget what words were for when he opened his mouth around one. It didn't help that lately his mother had asked if he had been spending his nights at the tavern for a different reason than drinking the hours away with his brother and their friends. He denied any such notions, even though they were true, and Fili swore on Thorin's name that he had not breathed a word about it to her or anyone else. And yet somehow she suspected. That was the way with mothers. They always knew things.

Swallowing hard in order to clear the frog from his throat Kili made it to the bar behind two elder dwarves that had stopped to have a quick word with old Felgar's daughter. He placed his order with the bar keep while he waited and made it a point to ignore Fili's encouraging wave. He was going to win this dare and drink his brother's money dry even if it killed him.

" 'Ere ya go lad."

Two tankards filled to the brim with fresh pulled ale were placed in front of him just as the elders dwarves pushed off. Kili fumbled with the coins and accidentally dropped the lot onto the bar. To make matters worse he looked up and was caught in the enveloping stare of two large black doe eyes that rooted him to the spot.

"Why hello there. Kili isn't it? You're Fili's little brother." Soft words were uttered from a soft mouth.

"Ah…." He choked. His mind stopped working right then and there while his tongue refused to budge. Those eyes were so dark it was like staring into an obsidian mirror. He couldn't look away.

Hold on. Did she say _little brother?_

Was this how she saw him? As Fili's kid brother? He was seventy-seven years old and only five years younger than his elder brother. Hardly a youngling. His mouth snapped shut as his mind kick-started into motion. He was going to say that there was nothing little about him when his attention was pulled away from her by a force far greater than the pull of feminine wiles. Behind her was a window through which Kili could see the comings and goings of the main street of their town. And there, striding with a purpose that Kili could recognize anywhere, was the cloaked figure of his uncle. He knew that heavy-footed gait and the swing of Thorin's shoulders as he walked, as if there a heavy sword strapped to his hip for which there usually was. Thorin had finally come home from his travels. And he was most likely headed to one place and that was where Kili and his brother had to be before Thorin arrived.

Without bothering to excuse himself Kili turned and nearly bolted across the tavern. In his haste he left the drinks behind with the confused barmaid.

"Not only did you lose the bet Kili, you also forgot my drink." Fili scratched his chin as he watched Kili stumbled toward their table all wide-eyed and frantic. A clever retort was in order but it never came. Kili bet him to the punch on that one.

"We have to leave. Now."

Fili frowned as he straightened in his seat.

"Now? But we just got here. We haven't even had a few rounds yet."

Kili grabbed his brother's arm and dragged him out of the chair.

"Thorin's back."

Blue eyes stared into brown before Fili excitedly punched his brother on the shoulder. 'Well then, what are we standing here for? Lead the way!"

Kili didn't need to be told twice. They grabbed their cloaks and hurried for the door, almost upsetting a tray of drinks in the process in their mad dash. Before they exited the establishment Kili balked suddenly causing Fili to run smack dab into his brother's back.

"What's -"

Fili was cut off as Kili turned and did something that surprised them both. Felgar's daughter was still standing there by the bar when Kili said hello. And that she was beautiful. A smile and a wave was her response as Fili grabbed his brother by the collar and hauled him out into the street. The time for sweet talking and introductions was over.

"I won!" Kili crowed as the two brothers dashed down the street as if their boots were on fire.

As proud as he was of Kili's small victory Fili didn't stop to congratulate him. They could celebrate later. Right then they had to make it home before Thorin arrived and he already had a head start.

"The alleys, come on!" Fili motioned his brother to follow as they raced down a narrow alleyway that ended with a wooden fence. One that they easily scaled and kept going. They knew every side street and shortcut that led to their mother's house. This wasn't the first time they had to beat the clock to make it back. But instead of having to outdistance their mother this time they were running to intercept their uncle. Their uncle who had been gone for months trekking across distant lands that they have only ever dreamed of. Thorin had returned to the Blue Mountains and he would have word of what was going in the world. There were stories to be told and questions to be asked. So many questions.


	3. Homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is no other woman in Middle Earth that could shoo Thorin. Knife in one hand, wooden spoon in the other, she's liable to mother hen someone to death or kill them with a blade named Kindness. I hope you enjoy my take on Dís as much as I do. This is just the tip of the crazy female Dwarf iceberg.
> 
> *** Music Reference: Give "Boudicca" from Horrible Histories a listen for a Dís inspired theme song. Just wait until she gets mad. Don't Dís this Ms!

Dís clucked to herself. She could never claim to be as light-footed as an Elf. The family cat would agree.

She should have seen where the cat had been laying curled up in front of the hearth fire. She could not fault the ginger mouser for his startled reaction. She would have been equally upset if someone had the nerve to step on her while in the middle of a nap. 

“Come now, do not look at me like that.” 

A pair of gleaming yellow eyes glared balefully up at her from under a large wooden table that served as her chopping block. Wounded in pride the cat would likely sulk until her boys came home late into the evening before daring to come out. Dís never had time for coddling animals that had duties to fulfill under her roof. Her sons on the other hand, well, they thought differently. 

Fili had a tender spot for anything with fur and feathers. Kili on the other hand had a fixation as a child with the slimy, slithery, and crawly sort. Dís lost count of the times over the decades when the two would try to smuggle some mangy stray past her front door. Cats, dogs, birds, the odd squirrel, even a rabbit had come and gone. Those she could handle. But Dís drew the line at snakes. If it slithered or crawled and could slip through the walls it stayed outside. Preferably deep in the woods behind her garden patch. 

Making her way into the sitting room Dís glanced out of the heavy glass window. It was early still and her sons would likely spend the evening down at the Ram’s Head until old Felgar tossed them out on their ears. She hoped that they were not giving the cankerous old Dwarf too hard a time. There had been a few instances when she had no choice but to put her foot down and march the pair through the village by their ears when a fight or three had gotten out of hand. They were getting better as they grew older. As long as they did not create too great of a ruckus Dís would leave them to their business. They were boys after all, her boys, and where one went the other followed. Such was the way of the Dwarves of Durin’s line. 

“Well then Feather, what say we polish some blades?” 

A cheery chirp answered in agreement as a tiny blue finch in an ornate wicker cage hopped about on its perch. Another of her son’s rescues Feather had been the victim of a cat attack that had left him with a broken wing that had not healed properly. Unable to fly the brightly feathered bird found a home in theirs and Dís had grown fond of the little fellow. Always up with the sun Feather greeted her with a song when she stoked the hearth fire in the morning and chirped to her well into the evening as she mended and spun by the fire.  
Off in the far corner of the room sat a heavy ornate wooden chest. The rich brown surface was hand carved with the designs of her people and Khuzdul runes inlaid in silver ran along the iron bands that kept the chest sealed. The insignia of her lineage was interwoven with her own personal seal upon the lid. The chest was one of her few possessions that she cherished deeply. It had been a wedding gift from her father and in it she housed her secrets and her most precious memories. 

There were times when Dís wondered to herself if someday she would add new memories to the box, keepsakes that captured the unmeasurable joy of grandchildren.

A soft smile appeared as the pattering of small feet echoed in her memory. Fili and Kili had grown into fine Dwarven men, strong strapping lads that could overcome any challenge that presented itself. But to her the image of two rough and tumble younglings chasing each other up and down the corridors of Ered Luin would never be far from her mind whenever she thought of them. 

After all when does a mother stop being a mother? Once her babes have grown? When they leave the nest to start families of their own? When they go off to battle and never return? 

Dís withdrew an iron key from around her neck as her fingers gently caressed the engraved lid of the hope chest. Her boys had learned early on that trying to open this chest without her permission was futile. Dwarven locks were nigh impossible to open without the mated key and Dís kept hers with her at all times. Twisting the key sharply to the right the lock pulled back with a series of metallic clicks. Hooking her fingers into a set of grooves along the side of the lid she pulled back the thick reinforced oak. When she did the fragrant scent of cedar and jasmine wafted from the chest along with a lifetime of memories. 

Within the chest lay a multitude of items each individually wrapped in a protective layer of linen. Items both great and small had their own place, the oldest items at the bottom while the more recent ones remained near the surface. One item in particular stood out from the rest. Instead of linen the bulky object was tightly wrapped in an oil cloth and fastened with leather ties. It was this that Dís removed and carried into the kitchen where the hearth fire was burning brightly. Yellow eyes followed her footsteps warily as she placed the package on her chopping block, one that was scarred and pitted from years of use. Making quick work of the ties Dis removed the oil cloth and examined the exposed knife with an experienced eye. 

The sword, the axe, and the hammer may be the weapons of the men but when it came to knives it was the women who were the experts.

The knife’s wooden handle was designed for a hand larger than hers and the blade was longer than most of her good butchering knives but there was no denying that the quality of the craftsmanship was of the highest caliber. The master smith who had crafted the weapon knew well of her son’s appreciation for throwing knives and had designed it accordingly. This knife however was far more versatile. Like all hunting knives this one was of a simple but handsome Dwarrow design. Polished rowan handle capped with the royal seal of the House of Durin on the pommel the knife was a reflection of her elder son’s practical nature. 

Dís picked up the knife and tossed it from one hand to the other in order to get a feel for it. The knife had a good solid weight to it. The edge was a fine and clean one. The groove in the blade strengthened the metal which would make it easier to deliver a successful strike as well as absorb the shock of parrying a heavy blow from a much larger blade. Licking the pad of her thumb she lightly skimmed it across the razor edge and was satisfied when small beads of blood appeared on her finger. She had barely felt the slice. 

A thick carrot was sacrificed under the blade as Dís made short work of mincing the root. The cuts were easy and precise under her hand. Gutting and skinning a fresh kill would be easy work with no difficulty when quartering larger game or jointing rabbits for a stew. It was a knife that was more than just a mere weapon. It would serve her son well. 

Dís gave her thumb a quick suck before grabbing a clean cloth off the counter and began the task of polishing the blade. Each hard stroke of her fingers brought out a shine that reflected the fire’s warmth. Through her touch she willed her love and protection into the metal. This would be her touch stone, her connection to her son. Wherever he went she would be with him as long as the knife remained in his keeping.

So intent in her ministering Dís did not hear the soft click of the door handle or the whisper of the well-oiled back door being opened. The light flickered for a moment as a draft teased the kitchen fire. Dís did notice the change in the reflection along the blade and without a moment’s hesitation her arm swung out in an upward arch as she spun on her heel. The deadly edge of the hunting knife stop just short of nicking off a length of beard that belong to the last person she expected to see standing in her kitchen. 

“Mahal preserve me.” Dís had to catch her breath as her heart leapt into her throat at the sight of her travel-wearied brother. “Thorin!”

Thorin’s gaze never wavered as he waited for Dís to lower the knife. A close shave was not something that he was keen on receiving. 

“Expecting someone?”

A choked cry of delight filled the kitchen as the knife was placed on the cutting board. Dís did not give Thorin a moment to speak before she threw herself at him and had wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. Her grip was as strong as ever as she hugged him as hard as she could, as if to reassure herself that he truly was well and whole. 

Thorin had returned. Her brother was back and alive. 

“Thorin! Thank Aulë you are in one piece. And you are back. When did you arrive? You almost made my heart stop. You should not be standing. You must be exhausted. Look at you, you are half covered in wilderness. Where did you go? Where have you been? I have been worried sick about you. No word for months. You could have been anywhere, lying in a ditch…or…or…something could have happened and I would not have known. I had half a mind to send Dwalin after you when the spring thaw arrived. Look at the state of yourself. What happened? What did you find? Are you injured? Nothing broken? Nothing missing? No fever? Or a chill? Here, put those blasted weapons down and sit by the fire. You must be starving. When was the last time you ate? When was the last time you stop to rest? When was the last time you bathed? Do not tell me you have been spending all this time sleeping under trees.”

Like a mother hen clucking protectively over her brood Dís flitted about ridding Thorin of his traveling cloak and supply pack before she began fussing over him. Quick hands touched, stroked, and probed to make sure that there were no festering wounds, missing digits, or broken bones. Beaded braids swayed to and fro as she worked to disarm him at an almost frantic pace. If the weapons were removed then he could rest. If the weapons were gone he could finally be at ease. 

The cold blue light of Thorin’s eyes softened when his sister took hold of his right hand with both of hers and tried to urge him forward. It would have been easier to attempt to move a mountain. Thorin remained where he stood even though Dís refused to relinquish her hold. Her unrelenting concern for the state of his wellbeing coaxed a rare smile to appear. 

“Dís,calm yourself. I am all right.”

Dís’s eyes became over bright as Thorin’s strong arms enfolded her completely. A wayward tear trickled out of the corner of her eye and disappeared into Thorin’s thick mane of hair as she matched his embrace with her own.

“Oh Thorin, I...I-“

There were more streaks of silver in his hair than the last time she saw him. Many months had passed since he had set out in the long days of early autumn in search of their father. It was uncanny how closely he resembled Thráin now more than ever. 

A sudden chill gripped Dís about the shoulders. A shudder raced up her spine and she shivered despite of the heat of the hearth fire and warmth of her brother’s embrace. 

“What is wrong?”

Thorin’s persistent frown deepened. Dís blinked back the moisture in her eyes and waved away his concern. 

“I am being silly. You appearing out of nowhere. So unexpected. I just, you gave me such a fright. You know how I am with surprises.” 

“That was not what I intended. I did not mean to frighten you. I would never -.”

Dís cut him off with a hush as she gave him a kiss on the cheek and a playful tugged on one of his braids. It was an old habit of hers from the days of wandering through the wilderness after the dragon had overtaken Erebor. Often had Thorin carried her on his shoulders during the long march while their grandfather led them onward and each time he would sport new braids woven from her clever fingers.

“Big Brother, I know you better than you know yourself. If you have come creeping into my house like a thief in the night then it was for your own self-preservation not mine. And do not worry, you are safe for the time being. They are both down at the Ram’s Head no doubt making Felgar’s life intolerable.” 

Thorin chuckled at his sister’s knowing look. She had certainly called him out on that one. 

“Is there nothing I can keep from you?”

“Thorin I am your sister. I know everything.” 

She patted him on the chest for good measure. 

“Indeed it would seem that way.” Thorin’s gaze shifted from Dís for a moment as he regarded the hunting knife that had so nearly clipped him on the chin. This time it was he who gave the knowing look as he plucked the blade off the block and gave a nod of appreciation once he got a feel for it.

“A proper huntsman’s blade. What business does it have doing at your table? Deciding whether or not warg meat is worth the effort?”

Dís rolled her eyes at her brother’s subtle attempt at humour. 

“It is a gift for your eldest nephew. He will be 82 come the beginning of next month.” 

Dís took the knife from Thorin and wrapped it in the oilcloth before she set it off to the side. She chose not to see the weariness that crossed Thorin’s face at the mention of Fili’s upcoming birthday. Carrying the weight of leadership was a heavy burden to bear. Dís understood the toll it took on her brother who did not have the luxury of excess time. There had been occasions in the past where he had been forced to miss out on family events and it had never sat well that he could not be there to celebrate in the simple family pleasures that he deeply treasured. 

“82 already? Time slips past when I least expect it. There are moments when I cannot remember what day it is or what month has come to pass.” 

“And no wonder. Thorin you are exhausted. You do not need me to remind you that Durin’s folk are not immortal. You push yourself too hard and for too long. Any other Dwarf would have carried on as you do but you are too stubborn to admit such a thing. Now will you please allow me to see to your well-being by feeding you until you can no longer move? I do not know when you last had a decent meal in you but I can assure you that I will be making up for lost time. Now go, wash up out back, and for tonight you are no longer the leader of our people but my prisoner. If the Seven Kingdoms should face utter ruin in that time then I shall be the one to deal with it. Away with you.”

There was no arguing with Dís when she was set in having her way. Her home was her domain and she ruled from the kitchen with absolute authority. Thorin allowed his sister to shoo him from the kitchen with a flap of her apron before she set about taking charge with a loud clatter and clanging of pots and pans. 

Stepping out into the night Thorin breathed in the rich mountain air and glanced up at the moon overhead. Something weighed heavily on his mind but he would not ruin tonight with talk of assassins and the price on his life. It would do more harm than good. He would mind his words and allow for an evening of that rare moment of peace within the company and comfort of his family. He owed his sister that much.

Making his way over to the well that was fed from the mountain springs Thorin removed the scarred leather arm bracers from around his lower arms and rolled up his sleeves. The bucket was dropped with a reassuring splash just as a dark figure appeared out of the darkness from behind Dís chicken coop. Drawing up the water bucket Thorin did not sense the approaching presence behind him until it was too late. By then there was nothing he could do but take the hit as the figure collided into his shoulder at such speed that he was thrown off his feet. 

A cry was uttered as Thorin grabbed his assailant and threw his weight to the side. Growling a curse he rolled until he had pinned his attacker under him. Drawing back his arm he was ready to let loose his fist when a yelp stayed his hand.

“Wait Uncle wait! Don’t hurt him!”

Thorin glared down at the figure pinned beneath his knees and when he got a clear look of who it was he recognized the familiar cheeky grin that could only belong to one Dwarf. 

“Kili?”

The grin grew into an ear-to-ear smile. 

“Welcome back!”


End file.
